Luck of the Draw
by Gypsy Love
Summary: Johnny, at ten years old.


Johnny Cade-1960

He was ten years old. His parents drank, a lot. His parents ignored him, even then. He snuck cigarettes, he'd been smoking for a year, but he'd never let them see him smoking. His old man would whip him for that for sure.

At his friend Soda's house, Soda was ten, too, he saw how nice his parents were. If he was over there they'd include him in things, and he'd blink his dark eyes in wonder. His parents never did any of this stuff, like baking cookies and letting him crack the eggs into the batter, like Soda's mom did. Or fishing and letting him put the worms on the hooks like his dad did.

Soda had two brothers, one who was older named Darry. Darry was 14 and played football real good. His younger brother was named Ponyboy and he was eight. He read books that Johnny thought were maybe too tough for an eight year old to read. He'd picked one up once after Ponyboy put it down and he couldn't make heads or tails of the thing, and he was two years older! But then he was never that great at reading, Ponyboy obviously was. What he, Johnny, was great at, he didn't quite know.

One day he came over but Soda wasn't home, he was at a rodeo or something. Ponyboy was home, though, so Johnny figured he'd hang out with him. He really didn't want to go home. Soda's parents looked at him with sympathy after telling him Soda wasn't home.

"Ponyboy is in his room reading. Why don't you see if he wants to play with you?" Soda's mom said, and Johnny nodded solemnly. Yeah, he would. It was better than going home.

"Hi," he said quietly, staying in the doorway. Ponyboy looked up from the thick book he was reading.

"Hi," he answered, and motioned for Johnny to come in. Johnny did, shutting the door behind him so he could smoke. Ponyboy watched him light up the cigarette in awe.

"Jeez, you smoke?" he said, and Johnny nodded, inhaling the smoke and exhaling, not coughing, not even once.

"Your parents let you?" he said, marking his place in the book and setting it aside, watching Johnny smoke in fascination.

"No. They don't know. I don't care what they think, anyway," he said, and that also amazed Ponyboy, who had known nothing but the loving care of his parents.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Johnny said, looking down.

"Hey, what happened?" Ponyboy said, pointing to the bruise on Johnny's arm. Johnny looked at it as if he hadn't known it was there. It was still a dark purple. He shrugged.

"My old man, I guess. He grabbed my arm,"

Ponyboy nodded, understanding this, at least. Some kids' parents were like that. It was the luck of the draw. Johnny had pulled the short stick on that one.

Johnny finished his cigarette and him and Ponyboy played cards for awhile, war and go fish and gin rummy. But it was getting darker and darker and later and later and Johnny knew it was a school night. He knew that meant Ponyboy's parents would kick him out pretty soon, and they did.

"Johnny, it's getting late. Shouldn't you get home?" Pony's mother said, and he gazed at her blond hair that fell to her shoulders. He didn't want to go but he knew he had to, so he didn't argue. He just nodded and said goodbye to Ponyboy and left.

Walking home in the dark, he hugged himself and hurried. He wouldn't sleep outside, he was too young and too scared to. There wasn't anybody's house he could go to, not on a school night at ten years old. There was nowhere to go but home. Not anywhere. Johnny felt the dread gathering inside of him.

At his house, outside of it, he could hear his parents yelling at each other. He shook and stood in the gloom just outside where the porch light could reach. He really didn't want to go in there. He took a deep breath and went in anyway.

"Johnny! Where have you been?" his father said, his words slurring. Johnny looked up at his father with wide eyes. He felt himself starting to shake. He could tell by the way his voice sounded and the look in his eyes, he could tell what was gonna happen.

"Nowhere, I mean, I was-"

And his father grabbed his arm, the one that was bruised already, and yanked him around for a spanking, a whipping, with the belt. Johnny felt the strong arm around his arm, and he knew he couldn't get loose. He felt the belt come down on his butt and his back, stinging each time it did. He felt the tears running silently down his cheeks.

When he was let go he fell to the floor and laid there crying, his breath coming in hitching little sobs, but as soon as he could he picked himself up and went to his room. He went to the back of his closet and huddled in there, his knees drawn up to his chest, rocking to himself and crying. He hated his father, he hated his mother, he hated this house, he hated it here. He wished Soda's parents were his parents. He wished he was old enough to move out or at least stay out somewhere.

In the back of the closet, feeling sleepy, he could hear his parents still fighting. But now, after getting whipped, he didn't care. It was over for tonight. Maybe tomorrow would be better. He was still young enough to think it might be better.


End file.
